


We Are Here Then

by rowofstars



Series: 31 Days of Ficmas 2017 [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 31 Days of Ficmas, F/M, Ficlet, Light Angst, Post-Episode: 2014 Xmas Last Christmas, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 21:08:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12896856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowofstars/pseuds/rowofstars
Summary: Twelve and Clara and a quiet moment post-Last Christmas. For the 31 Days of Ficmas, prompt #3 - Hot Chocolate.





	We Are Here Then

**Author's Note:**

> I miss them. I feel like all the exuberance of the way they ran into the TARDIS may have given way to something slower, quieter, and more reserved.

After, everything is quiet.

It’s not that he minds the quiet exactly, he’s found it very useful now and then when he’s of a mind to be contemplative, or when the burdens of the universe are just a bit too much. Yet right now the silence is discomforting, and Clara’s absence leaves him without immediate purpose. He fiddles with his guitar for a bit, but the noise is more than he wants so he lingers in the console room, running his hands over the buttons and levers, and wondering where they go from here.

Eventually, he goes looking and finds her in the library.

“Took you long enough to find me,” Clara says as he approaches, closing her book and setting it on the side table.

Her smile is small and knowing, and he frowns. There’s a mug in each hand, one blue, one red, because he thought she might like a warm beverage if she was feeling poorly. But she seems to be fine.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be found.”

She pats the couch cushion beside her and he sits, holding the cups steady.

“What’s this?” she asks, reaching for the mug he holds out for her.

“I believe you call it...hot chocolate?” he scowls down into his mug, uncertain if he’s in the mood for the sweet richness.

“Thank you,” Clara says, shifting closer. She sips at her drink and lets the silence linger, watching him as he sits, just holding the mug in his hands. 

Outside it’s snowing, or at least it was. She supposes it’s probably not now, not where they are, but she likes to pretend it is and that she could go to the window over there and look out into the swirling cold.

“I didn’t mean -” She stops and sighs.

His lips spread into a flat smile. “I know.”

She huffs and sets the cup on top of her book. “ _No_ , you don’t.”

He doesn’t, she thinks, he can’t possibly. But of course he would say he would and figure it out later.

The Doctor shifts, and she lays a hand on his knee and gives it a squeeze. “I know we should talk about it,” she says. “But - I don’t want to.”

He frowns. “Okay?”

“Can we just -” Clara pauses and licks her lips. “Can we just go?”

“Go?” he repeats.

She nods and takes a breath, moving again to sit closer and wrap her arm through his. “Yeah, go.”

Their legs are pressed together and he’s still holding his mug of slowly cooling cocoa.

“Where?” he asks. She’s warm against his side, wearing the same robe that she had on when he whisked her out of her house after the dream had been dispelled.

“Anywhere,” she says immediately. “Anywhen, I dunno, just -” 

Frowning down at his cup, he lifts it takes a hesitant sip. His body shudders,recoiling from the cool, sickeningly chocolate taste. “It’s cold.”

She shakes her head. It’s never made sense, him, this, and them. Why, she thinks, should it start now? She leans into him, resting against his shoulder. “Danny was there, in the dream.”

She says it like that’s enough explanation for the way she feels, for why she wants to move forward and not look back. It’s not, but she’ll pretend again and eventually it will be okay, it will be like it was. Only it won’t because now it feels like so much more. They are moving towards something they don’t understand yet.

The Doctor lets out a small _‘ah’_ because what else is there to say. Of course the soldier was there. He smiles at her though, pats her knee, and then stands, holding the mug away from his body like it’s offended him. 

“You’ve been around me too long,” he says, smiling. “When you’re ready, we’ll go.”

Clara watches him go. 

In a moment, she’ll sip her own hot chocolate, now cold, and laugh.


End file.
